Jordan, Day 3 (part 2)

Tuesday, November 18 (cont)

The Deir Monastery

Musa

Abdullah and I meet up with Musa, whom we promised could take us up to the pièce de résistance, The Deir (the Monastery), with his donkeys.  My donkey’s name is Jack and he proves partial to walking up these 870 steps and slippery slopes on the ultimate edge of any precipice encountered.  I know he knows what he’s doing, and that he’s sure-footed, but...  Abdullah asks over his shoulder if I’m scared and I admit I am a bit, but Musa tries to stay between Jack and the void, although he doesn’t always succeed.  Once we safely reach the top - well, almost the top - Musa praises me for being a good rider - all those lessons at summer camp finally paid off. No one notices my white knuckles.  Musa did the climb on foot, then hopped on Jack and rode back down.  We’ll be walking back down, thank God!
       A few more dozen steps and we’ve reached the sky.  The trip up was well worth it.  The Deir is similar to the Khazneh in its facade and its urn feature, but much bigger.  Plus it’s not recessed into the stone like the Khazneh, but rather juts out from the surrounding rock face.  In fact a huge part of the mountain was simply chiseled off, piece by piece and by hand, and carted away.  That left a courtyard that was probably enclosed by a sort of covered colonnade.  Every monastery needs a courtyard for its rituals.

       It was also worth it to come up here for the view.  Looking out to the west over range after range of mountains - granite and sandstone - I see a heat haze hanging over the desert sands beyond, punctuated only by the dark green of a palm grove.
       Again, someone has carted water all the way up here.  This time it’s a young man with long black curls who serves us mint tea under a Bedouin tent. Both provide refreshing coolness in the noon-day sun.
       Sand on stone is slippery but I make it back down - this time on foot - availing myself gratefully of Abdullah’s hand offered when needed.  He’s assessed my skill level by now, and seems happy with my stamina, but perhaps mildly chagrined by being slowed down by my picture-taking.  We pass the Welsh lady in the pink blouse whom we passed as we started up the hill.  It’s taken her a long while to get to the top; her friend’s knees are not doing well.  My own ache by the time we reach the bottom.

Abdullah

After a light buffet lunch on the terrace of the restaurant, in the shadow of some welcome trees, Abdullah surprises me by announcing he’s cutting me loose and heading off.  By then, it’s past 2 o’clock and we’ve been together, through thick and thin, up down and around, for almost seven hours, so he’s put in his full day, although I’m sad to lose his company.  He gives me his e-mail address, to stay in touch, which I will.
       He sets me on the road back along the colonnade, and I look over my shoulder a few times to wave good-bye until he disappears behind a hill.  I happen upon Pink Welsh Lady for the third time and we walk and talk until her friend’s legs give out and they take a break.  I continue on...  past the children selling postcards, past the amphitheater, truly on my own in Petra for the first time, to the Khazneh where horsecart Number 5 (groan) will carry me back up the Siq to the entrance.

Temenos Gate with Royal Tombs in background

       My time in Petra is over.  Back to the hotel for a beautiful sunset from the rooftop terrace, then dinner and sleep.  Fakhrey will be back to collect what’s left of me tomorrow morning.